The Afflicted
by Amieva
Summary: FORMERLY TITLED SEEN AND UNSEEN Chapter 4: John's jealous of Lance. Wanda feels boxed in. JONDA Read/Review
1. AND AN OATMEAL COOKIE

**X-Men Evolution and all of its characters are the property of Marvel Comics, Warner Bros. and that beautiful beautiful mind of Stan Lee.**

* * *

Looking back, Wanda should have noticed that her life had taken a turn for the strange the night she woke up to the sound of her twin brother arguing with someone whose voice she didn't recognize. Now, Wanda was accustomed to sleeping through the various crashes and general rowdiness of her housemates. She had to adjust to their noise, or resign herself to never sleeping again. Instead of just eliminating the noise all together (which she was sure she was more than capable of doing through threats and intimidation), she slept with headphones on, and with padding around the cracks in her bedroom door.

It was easy enough to tune out the familiar sounds, such as Fred preparing food in the kitchen, or Todd bouncing around in the living room. However the sound of a new voice, and the fact that her brother sounded rather desperate, forced Wanda to get out of bed and investigate. She followed the voices to the dining room and concealed herself just outside the door.

"The choice is yours, Pietro. You can either take my offer, and all your little troubles will go away. Or, you can carry on with this little life you've made for yourself, and wait for the local authorities to catch on to what you've been up to," the strange voice said calmly and evenly. He sounded like an older man, possibly in his late forties? "Pheh, you don't have anything on me." Wanda heard Pietro respond with contempt.

"I have a lot more than you could ever imagine, Mr. Maximoff. Sitting on my desk right now is a file so packed with evidence against you, it's thicker than The Blob's right arm. All I need to do is drop it off at the Bayville police department, and you'll be shipped off to where it won't matter how fast you can run." There was a pause, and then the sound of something being set on the wooden table. "Besides, I'm not thinking of you. What would you do if something were to happen to that sister of yours? It seems to me that Magneto worked pretty hard to fix that little problem she'd been having."

Wanda scowled to herself. She was prepared to storm into the dining room, but before she could get up she heard Pietro slam his fist down and shout at the older man in the room. "You leave Wanda the hell alone! She's been through enough!"

Wanda was shocked back into sitting and decided to wait this one out. She'd been through enough what? The only thing she could think of was Pietro was referring to the battle against Apocalypse. But that had been three years ago. She'd well gotten over that.

Pietro let out a frustrated sigh. "Alright, fine. What else do you need me to do…"

"Just talk to your people. You're pretty good at getting them to follow your lead." The voice sounded irritatingly pleased with Pietro's resignation. "I'm glad we could come to a mutual understanding, Mr. Maximoff. Next time you see me I'll have your first set of tasks. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

Wanda braced herself against the wall as she heard the sound of heavy footsteps leave the other room. A long moment passed while Wanda waited for it to be safe to move again without being detected. She listened for any chance of the other man to return. When it became obvious that Pietro wasn't going to be revisited, she finally got to her feet and stepped into the dining room to confront her brother.

She walked into an empty room. Pietro had taken off. The only evidence that remained of the strange visit was a framed picture on the dining room table, a picture Wanda had never seen before, of herself and Pietro as children.

* * *

The following morning Pietro seemed irritable and even more impatient than usual. Wanda wanted to question him about it, but not while the ears of the other boarders could hear them. The last thing she wanted was the constant barrage of inane questions from Todd that were inevitable to follow, along with Fred's confusion and Lance's paranoia. An opportunity would present itself eventually, of that Wanda was confident. In the meantime however, she hurried to get her coffee and a muffin before the boys claimed the rest of the contents of the kitchen.

Pietro wasn't the only one in the house in a foul mood that morning either. Lance had been out with Kitty Pryde the night before, and when he came home it was clear to everyone - if the tremors were any indication - that the date hadn't ended well. It wasn't a great surprise to anyone. Kitty and Lance's relationship was anything but stable. They had more break-ups than anyone could count, and fought constantly. It was actually a wonder that they always seemed to work things out for those few weeks in between arguments. Wanda's best guess was this time the conflict was caused by the reappearance of the mutant named Colossus.

On the trip to Mexico, where Wanda had to face off against Magneto while he was being controlled by Apocalypse, Kitty talked about various things and people. One subject that kept coming up was Colossus. Wanda didn't have a great understanding of such things, but she gathered that Kitty was rather infatuated with the large Russian mutant, though Kitty thought that he was far too shy for her liking, and probably had a girlfriend anyway.

Rumour had it that the Russian had recently accepted Xavier's offer to stay at the Institute and joined the X-Men.

Wanda sipped her coffee and contemplated what she was going to do for the day. She had a six hour shift at the café, and then she had to go to the grocery store. She had long ago determined that if she wasn't around, the boys would die of starvation. Absolutely none of them put any thought into where food came from or considered when it might be necessary to get more. It had been a fight, but two years ago Wanda managed to convince everyone that they needed to get jobs, so they could at least maintain the house and keep themselves fed. Wanda took care of most of the bills, and managed their combined finances. Out of all of them, Lance made the steadiest money at his construction job. Pietro never talked about what he did, and quite frankly, Wanda didn't really care to know. Fred and Todd both worked at a junk yard, and would often bring home random scrap that Todd used to work on the 'top secret projects' that he kept in the basement.

She was almost out of shampoo.

Wanda finished her coffee and set the empty mug in the sink before she snatched up her purse and double checked her pants pocket for her keys. "I'm going to work," she announced to nobody in particular, getting incoherent grunts from those who heard her and/or didn't care.

* * *

At the conclusion of John's meeting, he was given very specific instructions as to where he needed to go for coffee. The whole situation was ludicrous really, which was probably the only reason he was following along with it. Bayville was certainly the last place he would ever expect to find himself again, especially after spending the last three years home in Australia trying to support himself as a freelance journalist, and working on his masterpiece manuscript that was going to make him millions of dollars. It was about a lusty barmaid with magic powers, and a blind poet who was hiding a dark secret about his past. Bloody brilliant.

He had been on the verge of a creative breakthrough when he was contacted by some top secret American Government organization with a once-in-a-lifetime offer. It had reminded him of the day he was approached by Magneto, and offered a job as one of his flunkies. John had composed a witty and well worded response to this Nick Fury, delicately declining his job offer. He had really no interest in getting tangled up with those crazy American mutants again - not that his life in Brisbane was so thrilling he really couldn't think of anything he'd rather be doing. John lived his life the way he wanted to, just as it suited him.

Nick Fury responded to John's letter with a stealth chopper and five heavily armed soldiers at his doorstep at three in the morning. When he woke up again he found himself sitting in the driver's seat of his pick-up truck, which was loaded with all of his meagre belongings, and staring at a note taped to his steering wheel. It informed him that he was in Bayville, New York, and that he was supposed to meet his contact at Ange's Café and Bookstore on Harrison and Fifth. So really, it hadn't been much of a meeting… and John was following along with it because he was stranded, homeless and he had no other options.

Coffee didn't seem like such a bad idea. As John parked his pick-up outside the little café, he was actually starting to think this would be a great way to get his bearings, and maybe an oatmeal cookie.

Ange didn't keep a large shop, which suited John enough. The location of the café probably meant that they weren't overly crowded, even during peak hours, tucked away as it was between a furniture store and a locksmith shop. The café reminded him of a place round the corner from his apartment… well, his former apartment, past tense… where he spent several hours writing. He smiled. Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all. It smelled of fresh coffee and baking bread. All that was missing was a portly middle-aged woman with ginger hair, and John would have sworn he was back in his Grandmother's house.

Gran had mostly lost her mind when John was still a child, but she was a sweet woman and loved to bake fresh bread. She also liked to put the cat in the dishwasher. John suddenly recalled that was supposed to visit her sometime this week. He would have to call her when next he found a payphone.

John found an unoccupied couch in the corner of the café, next to a potted plant and a table covered in a mural of stickers and magazine clippings. He carefully set down the rucksack he'd been carrying and extracted from it his laptop computer and a pad of yellow note paper. If he had to wait for this contact of his, he wasn't going to waste his time with not working.

It was shortly after his computer (finally) loaded when John was approached by someone in his corner and asked him what he wanted to order. For a moment John didn't look up. He was trying to recall if this was part of the cryptic directions he'd received from Fury. It certainly seemed like the sort of super secret spy movie-type thing SHIELD was so fond of putting their pawns through. Without glancing up at the waitress he said in his best super-spy voice, "I'll have the white fish and asparagus, but hold the mustard."

"What?"

"Damn, that wasn't the right code, was it?" John glanced up and met the scowling face of his waitress.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, sir." She frowned.

"It's alright, luv. I'm waiting on someone."

"So am I. You need to order something, or you can't sit here."

John blinked. "Erm… alright then. I'll have a coffee and an oatmeal cookie."

"Chocolate or raisin?"

"Raisin." He watched her turn and stalk off to the coffee bar. "Please," he added as an afterthought. He continued to watch her as she poured out coffee from a glass carafe into an oversized blue mug with "Ange's" scrawled across its side. There was something disturbing about the waitress, other than her surly attitude and her dark make-up. He couldn't put his finger on it, but she somehow seemed familiar.

Another woman in a uniform approached his waitress and muttered something to her while placing a hand on her shoulder. His waitress nodded and said something like "not a problem" before she finished getting his order together on a tray. The other waitress smiled broadly at her. "Thanks Wanda! I owe you one!"

The second waitress hurried away to the back of the café to presumably get ready to leave while the woman called Wanda came around the counter carrying John's tray. The realization hit John like a Mack truck. Wanda as in Magneto's Wanda, as in the Scarlet Witch Wanda, as in he was in big trouble if she recognized him Wanda. It was no wonder he didn't see it before. She looked much different from the last time he saw her. She'd gotten taller. Her breasts and gotten a bit larger too, not that John had noticed that in particular. The biggest change was her hair. John remembered Wanda having short-cropped hair. His waitress Wanda had hair that probably hung well past her shoulders when it wasn't tied back like it was. It was difficult to describe her without using some derivative of attractive, that was certain.

Wanda set the tray on the end table next John. "Can I get anything else for you?" she asked sounding bored. Clearly she was hoping his answer would be 'no' so she could get back to whatever other mundane tasks she had to perform.

"When do you get off?" John blurted out without thinking. He was panicking.

Wanda nearly tripped from surprise. "What?"

"Work! When do you get off work? Just makin' conversation. I figure it's one of those American etiquette things. You bring me coffee, I ask you when you get off work, you smile and blush, then I go herd cattle with a shot gun."

Wanda glared at him.

"No? Bloody hell, I thought I had that one. Never mind then. How's your father?"

John saw Wanda's jaw clench, and the lights above their heads flickered slightly. She was trying very hard not to keep her cool. Well that was a plus. From what John could recall from the last time he faced off against her, Wanda had a tendency to shoot first then ask questions later if she felt like it. "It's $3.78 for the coffee and cookie. You can pay when you're done." She set the bill on the tray with a little more force than was necessary and stormed off.

Interesting. John immediately felt better once she was out of sight. Wanda didn't remember him in the slightest. On one hand this was very good news for him. On the other hand he felt a bit miffed that he was so unremarkable. Oh well. If this was the only time he was going to run into her, then all the better. With any luck, he'd finish up with whatever it was that Fury wanted him to do, get back to his life in Brisbane and avoid this café like the plague in the meantime. He need never run into Wanda again.

John slipped his laptop back into his rucksack, pulled a five dollar bill out of his pocket (Fury had at some point replaced all the money in John's wallet with American bills) and set it underneath his half-finished cup of coffee. As he was about to leave, another customer bumped into him from behind and took off without so much as a quick apology. John was going to shout at him, but he noticed that his once empty hand was now clutching a crumpled piece of paper. He carefully untwisted the note and swore immediately after reading what was written on it.

_You will find Quicksilver at the Brotherhood Boarding House. Welcome to Bayville. - Fury_

_

* * *

_

**There you have it. I've recently been bitten by a writing bug, and seem to have gotten an EVO infection. I'm not entirely sure where this is going yet, if it does go anywhere. I haven't written anything in a long time. Hopefully the life experience I've gained between highschool and now will assist me in bringing out something worth reading.**

**I appreciate hearing from you guys. Drop me a review and let me know what you think.**


	2. AFTER A LONG DAY

**X-Men Evolution is the property of Warner Brothers, Marvel and Stan Lee. I'm not making any money off of this, I'm just fangirling.**

* * *

Wanda came home late from work that night, since she agreed to cover the rest of Hannah's shift. She didn't really _want_ to stay later, but she knew that she would probably need the money for something later. As a result she missed getting to the grocery store before it closed. She'd have to get up early in the morning and go before work. Perfect, she thought bitterly. Tomorrow was supposed to be her day to sleep in. Wanda hated having to be the responsible one in this household.

"I'm home!" Wanda announced to nobody in particular. Setting her keys on the table by the door, Wanda listened for the usual sounds of life within the house. Normally the T.V. would be blaring at its loudest volume and Todd and Pietro would be shouting at each other over what they were going to watch. Fred was usually in the kitchen, clanking pots and pans and generally running into anything he couldn't manoeuvre his girth around. Lance would often hole himself up in his bedroom and play guitar. Any one of these sounds would reassure Wanda that she wasn't coming home to an empty house, and absolutely none of them were being made. It set Wanda on edge.

Wanda slipped her purse off her shoulder and carefully twisted the strap around her right hand, making it into a makeshift mace, as she crept forward in the direction of the living room. She quickly glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was sneaking up behind her. She listened carefully for any misplaced noises. There was nothing heard for a long time until she picked up muffled voices from behind the door leading to the basement. Her eyes narrowed. There wasn't much in the basement aside from disused workout equipment and an old pool table. It didn't make sense for there to be anyone down there.

Careful not to make too much noise, Wanda crept closer to the basement door and carefully laid her hand over the door knob. She was about to twist and pull it open, but the door suddenly swung forward and knocked her off her feet. Wanda crashed to the floor with a shout and sent a shot of blue hex energy in the direction of her assailant. The hex was met with a squeak and the resounding smash of someone going through drywall.

Footsteps thundered up from the basement stairs as three bodies appeared to investigate the chaos. Wanda was in a panic and sent three more hex beams in their direction. Two missed, but the third beam caught hold of a ceiling lamp above their heads. The bulb burst and showered sparks and shards of glass. Wanda shrieked as she felt a pair of hands clamp down on her wrists before she could send another blast.

"Wanda! Calm down! It's just us!" Pietro's voice shouted near her ear. He was the one gripping her wrists, preventing her from making another attack.

Chest heaving from trying to regain her breath, Wanda felt herself melt into the floor with a sudden sense of relief. She couldn't exactly explain why she felt the need to attack blindly without even checking to make sure it was her allies that were lurking in the basement.

There was a groan from the hole in the wall. Todd's legs stuck out at a strange angles. "It's okay, poopsie," he called weakly. "I'm fine. Ouch…"

"Wanda, what the hell is wrong with you?" Lance stormed out from behind Fred (whom he had been using as a meat shield) and glared dangerously at Wanda's paled face. "You could've killed Todd! And look at what you did to the wall! Damn it!"

Pietro loosened his grip on Wanda's wrists, and she wrenched herself free from him. "Sorry," she muttered, not sounding in the least bit apologetic.

"Lay off of her, Alvers." Pietro growled in warning.

"You're not off the hook, Maximoff." Lance snapped back with venom.

Wanda glanced between her brother and her roommate in confusion. It wasn't unusual to see Lance annoyed with Pietro, but it was unusual for him to be this angry. "What's going on?" She demanded of them.

Pietro got to his feet before he helped Wanda to hers. Fred meanwhile pulled Todd out of the wall and helped the smaller mutant dust himself off.

Lance crossed his arms and sneered. "Go ahead and tell her the great news, Pietro. I'm sure she'll be absolutely _thrilled_."

Wanda turned and stared at her twin. Pietro's jaw was set in a frown, and he was glaring directly back at Lance like he wanted to say all sorts of horrible things about him. Wanda wondered briefly why he _wasn't _saying them. Pietro never had a problem with insulting people before. "Pietro, what is he talking about? Does this have anything to do with that man from last night?"

All the eyes of the Brotherhood were on her. Todd started to snicker. "You had a dude here last night, Pietro?"

"Shut up, Toad!"

Wanda punched her brother in the arm in his moment of distraction. "Pietro! Answer my question!"

Pietro rubbed his shoulder. "Ow… Yeah, it was Nick Fury."

Wanda only looked at him in confusion. "Nick Fury? Isn't he that old guy with the eye patch? What did you do to piss him off?"

"Nothing!" Pietro threw his hands up defensively as Wanda rounded on him with her fists clenched. "I didn't do anything I swear!"

"Why don't you tell her about what you and your buddy Nick talked about last night, Pietro?" Lance interjected.

Pietro sighed heavily. "Lets go sit in the living room, c'mon."

With his shoulders slumped, Pietro lead the rest of the Brotherhood into their tattered living room. Fred took his usual spot in the saggy oversized armchair in the corner, and Lance got comfortable leaning against the wall by the door with his arms crossed. Wanda took a corner of the couch. Todd plopped down on the arm next to her. Wanda shifted a bit closer to the center of the couch to avoid touching him.

"Okay," Pietro massaged his brow as he paced back and forth. "Like I told the guys already… Fury showed up here last night after all of you went to bed. He had a job offer-"

Lance interrupted him with a cough that sounded like he was trying to cover up the fact that he said something rather unflattering.

"- for us." Pietro continued, shooting a glare in Lance's direction. "Basically, his deal was we either take it, or he'd make sure our lives got really difficult."

"Somehow I doubt this really involved all of us," Lance said.

"It does involve all of us!" Pietro snapped back. "You have no idea what he's got tucked away in his files. _Anyway_ he wants me to talk you all into following along with this. He didn't give me many details, except that there would be pay involved. It'd be more than what we're making now."

There was a moment of silence among them. Surprisingly it was Fred who spoke up first. "Sounds good to me."

Lance almost choked. "Fred! You don't even know what he wants us to do!"

"So? It's gotta be better than sitting around here all the time. Fury's part of that big secret government organization, right?" Fred got a nod of confirmation from Pietro before he went on, "I'm pretty bored with not doing anything, since Mystique left and all. I mean, I can use my powers a little bit at work, but it's not the same. I get respect from the guys at the junk yard, but that's just because I'm big and they're scared of me. I wanna be The Blob again." To emphasize this, Fred flexed his arm and brought his fist down on the arm of his chair, smashing it clean off.

"That's the spirit, Blobby." A voice chuckled from the doorway. The Brotherhood all turned their attention to its source at once. A new face appeared among them, grinning broadly.

Wanda recognized that shock of ginger hair right away. "YOU!" She jumped to her feet and raised her hands in preparation to attack. Pietro rushed to stop her, before she could cause any more property damage, while Lance advanced on the man in the hallway.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Lance demanded. A tremor rumbled below their feet as Lance fought to keep control of his temper.

"Missed you too, mate," the newcomer smirked, raising his hands in surrender. "The door was open, so I let myself in. Just heard you talking about our pal Nick Fury. Seems I'm in the right place."

Wanda wrestled with Pietro to get free. "You creep! He must have followed me home from work!"

The stranger's blue eyes flashed in Wanda's direction. "Don't flatter y'self, luv. I wanted to avoid another run in. Seems like it wasn't my lucky day."

Wanda snarled.

"It's okay, Wanda. It's just Pyro." Pietro finally let go of Wanda's arms when she calmed down enough to be rationalized with.

"At your service," Pyro gave a mock bow in Pietro's direction. "Well, sort of anyway. I suppose I'm at Fury's service, but seeing as how he conveniently isn't here…"

Todd leapt off the arm of the couch and eyed Pyro with suspicion. He'd first twigged in that Pyro's presence might be a threat when Wanda had her outburst and called him a creep. 'Creep' was usually a term reserved for Todd himself. "Don't worry, cuddle-bumps. I'll get rid of him."

"Cuddle-bumps?" Pyro regarded Wanda with a raised eyebrow.

"Shut it, Todd." Wanda snapped in irritation. "Just tell us why you're here," she turned her annoyed glare to Pyro, "whether Fury sent you or not."

Pyro only shrugged. He slid his knapsack off his shoulder and carefully set it down by his feet. When his hands were free he extracted a folded piece of paper from his pants pocket and shook it in Wanda's and Pietro's general direction. "I don't have much to go on, but according to this Honey-Do list, I'm supposed to move in here effective yesterday. Then I'm supposed to wait around for further instructions - I'm assuming from Quicky over there."

All eyes turned to Pietro again, everyone looking expectant. He sighed and rubbed his temples. "I don't have any instructions from Fury yet. I just know that he wants us to get organized. Don't look at me like that, Wanda. I didn't even know Pyro was going to show up!"

"Sometimes I wonder about what you _don't_ know, Pietro." Wanda, with her arms crossed over her chest, stormed out of the living room, shoving past Pyro as she passed. Todd was about to follow her out before she shot back at them with, "I'm going upstairs to shower. If I see or hear any of you in the next hour, I'll turn your insides out."

* * *

John released a breath he didn't realize he was holding until Wanda was out of sight and earshot. He could feel his heart racing in his chest. She was quite possibly the scariest creature on the planet - next to Sabretooth after one of his binges. Now he was left with the remaining members of the Bayville Brotherhood. He scanned the room, looking at each of the faces of his new roommates. He knew who they all were. He had to study their files while he was still working for Magneto. He didn't know any of them particularly well, with the exception of Pietro. With Quicksilver's regular visits to the Acolyte hide-out, and the time they spent stuck in the Pyramids in Egypt, John got to know Pietro well enough for his liking. The younger mutant was quite full of himself, and definitely overconfident. John found him a little irritating, but wasn't surprised in the least. When your father considered himself a god amongst men, it wouldn't be hard to develop some sort of complex.

"Sooo…" he said to break the uncomfortable silence that followed Wanda's exit, "which of you lads am I bunking with? I'm assuming there isn't much in the way of spare rooms readily available?"

The Brotherhood boys all looked at each other in kind before staring blankly back at John. It was clear none of them wanted to volunteer to be his roomie. He didn't know if he wanted to take this as an insult, or a veiled blessing. To be completely honest with himself, John was dubious about the idea of sharing a room with any of them just the same. He knew that Pietro would be insufferable. Todd was a bit of a kleptomaniac, not to mention obnoxious. Lance seemed broody and unpleasant. Fred probably snored. He was briefly amused at the idea of suggesting he shack up with Wanda, but then thought better of it when he remembered that he was standing within punching distance of her brother.

Lance finally spoke up. "C'mon… My room's upstairs."

"Oh, alrighty then!" John snatched up his rucksack and toddled after Lance before he had a chance to change his mind. He could probably deal with broody unpleasantness. He had lived with Colossus after all.

Lance led him up the stairs and around a corridor. John could hear the sound of running water behind a shut door and correctly guessed that it was the bathroom and, if he wanted to keep his skin intact, he'd avoid it for the time being. Lance turned left at the end of one hallway, and lead John down the rest of the way to a set of three doors. "Here we are," Lance announced with mock enthusiasm. "To our left we have Toad's room. Avoid it at all times, unless you want the stench that doesn't wash out."

John shuddered slightly. "Gotcha."

"The door in the middle is a broom closet. This one's my room." Lance pushed on the door to the right without so much as turning the knob. "The latch is busted." he explained needlessly as the door yielded to his slight nudge. Judging by the state of most of the house John could assume that several things were 'busted.'

The room wasn't huge, but it seemed like it could easily fit another bed in the opposite corner from Lance's decrepit mattress. And, if John could convince Lance to move his laundry mountain, he could squeeze his writing desk in against the window.

Yeah, this could work.

Lance stomped into the room and threw himself onto his mattress with a groan. John took this as permission to come in as well, since Lance wasn't giving him any indication that he wanted to be left alone. John found a folding chair leaning against the wall that he flipped open and plopped into.

Lance sighed again and threw one of his bulky arms over his eyes. He reminded John of a muscle-bound teenaged girl, with his long chestnut hair and his melodramatic body language. John didn't voice this observation, since he got the feeling that Lance would disagree rather forcefully. Besides, John didn't know of many teenaged girls with facial hair.

"Look, I'm still not too sure about what to think of you being here yet." Lance said, sounding a little muffled behind his beefy forearm. "I'm just glad to get out of the same room as Pietro."

"Fair enough," John replied with a nod. "He hasn't changed much in three years, has he."

"Not at all." Lance hoisted himself up and leaned on his elbows, staring at John like he was sizing him up. "He's still the single most annoying person on the planet."

John didn't have a response as he was busy assessing the rest of his new surroundings. The wallpaper was quite faded, but it looked like it once had a pinstripe pattern to it. Whatever light fixtures had been used in this room were now reduced to a bare bulb jutting out of a light socket in the ceiling. Everything seemed quite Spartan. Lance didn't have a lot in the way of possessions either. A pair of guitars, one electric the other acoustic, leaned carefully against the wall by Lance's bed. Next to the guitars was a large rusted toolbox. There were a few magazines scattered around the top of the dresser, along with a single picture frame. The frame was laying facedown. John resisted the urge to investigate for now. He'd take a look at it when Lance fell asleep.

"What do you think Fury wants with us?" Lance asked blankly. John wasn't sure if he was being hypothetical or not… "I mean, I understand approaching the Brotherhood as a whole, but why in the hell would he drag you in here too?"

"Not a clue, mate." John answered. "Maybe SHIELD doesn't like having mutants at loose ends. My best guess is he wants us all to team up in little groups so it's easier to keep track of us."

Lance seemed to consider this for a moment, and the implication made him scowl. "You think SHIELD is in support of Kelly's Registration Act?"

John was a little surprised at this. "That Kelly fellow actually got elected?"

Lance nodded. "Yeah, he's running for Governor of New York in the next race. Once he's elected it's just a quick jump to the White House."

"Doesn't waste much time, does he."

"Nope."

John suddenly started to laugh as a thought struck him. Lance looked at him in confusion. "Heh! Wanda's like Smurfette! That would make Magneto Papa Smurf."

"What does that even-"

"Never mind. No. I don't think Fury's in on the Registration Act. I'm not registered back home in Aus, and he didn't make me sign anything before I took the sleeping-beauty express to Bayville. 'Course that doesn't stand to reason that I wasn't brainwashed or drugged into signing something before, after or during the time I was unconscious. But I don't think Fury would do something like that to an innocent mutant such as myself."

"You're kind of a freak, aren't you."

"We all are, Lance my friend. We all are."

* * *

Like clockwork, exactly one hour after Wanda's threat enforced alone time started, Pietro was banging on her bedroom door. "Wanda? C'mon, let me in!"

Wanda's bedroom door was the only one in the house with a functional lock, and she preferred to keep it like that. She'd actually taken the lock from Mystique's old room, since they were now using the space for a rec-room. Presently Wanda was stretched out on her bed and enjoying the mindless bliss of staring at the ceiling and thinking about absolutely nothing at all. She often did this when she was upset.

Pietro's knocking continued, much to Wanda's chagrin. He sounded like a woodpecker. They both knew he could pick the lock in a blink of an eye. At least her brother had enough decency in him to respect her right to choose whether or not she wanted to see him - that and if he picked the lock she'd probably hex his limbs together.

She finally gave in and shot a small amount of energy at the door to alter the probability of it opening on its own. Pietro had been leaning on it slightly, so he staggered into the room. "Ack! Oh finally. Geeze, I thought I was going to die of old age out there."

Wanda sneered and hexed the door shut behind him. "It'd be like having my birthday and Hanukah happen at once."

"Oh c'mon, Wanda. You can't be that mad at me."

Wanda shot him with a look. "You want to bet, brother dear?" She rolled over on her side so she was facing away from him. "Just get whatever you want to say out and then leave me alone. I'm sure you have better things to screw up."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Pietro barked.

"I think you know!" She snapped back. Wanda sat up. "It's fine if you want to get yourself mixed up with SHIELD. Have at it. You have my blessing! Why do you have to go and get the rest of us mixed up in this?"

"Wanda-"

She didn't want to hear his excuses. "It's always about you, Pietro! Even growing up, you were always drawing attention to yourself, trying to prove you were better than everyone else. You always assume that we'll just follow along with whatever it is you want to do!" Wanda's head was starting to hurt as she had flashes of memories from her childhood. She fought against the pain. There was the sound of glass cracking as some stray hex energy hit a framed picture on her dresser.

Pietro seemed at a loss as to what to do. He was watching her with a mixture of fear and indignation in his eyes. "It's not like I have much of a choice this time, Wanda!" he countered, carefully putting himself in a position that would allow for a quick escape should his sister lose control. "Besides, you heard what the guys said. Blob said he was all for it, and I didn't exactly hear Toad or Avalanche complaining either."

"Great! Take them along! Leave me out of it!"

"I can't, Wanda. We need the team. You don't know what Fury might do if we don't take his offer."

"So I'm supposed to tag along because some old bag in an eye patch scares you a little? Up yours, Pietro. I'm finally living a normal life. Now you're trying to take it away from me!"

"Normal? Wanda, we can't be _normal._ We haven't been normal since we were six! Like it or not, you're the Scarlet Witch, and no minimum wage job or make-pretend attempt at playing house is going to change that."

She didn't know what hurt more, the fact that Pietro had said it, or the fact that he was right. Wanda's face screwed up with rage, she shot a beam of energy in his direction and threw him out of her room.

* * *

**There you have it, chapter 2. I know it's moving a bit slow for now, but it'll pick up in the next few chapters.**

**As usual, I want to know what you think of the story. Drop me a review, it'll help me stay motivated.**

**And I want to thank the three of you who reviewed chapter one :) it's not much, but it was enough to make me think this is worth pursuing. I hope you enjoyed the second chapter.**

**Just as a bit of background trivia, Wanda's been a big help for me in venting some of my real life frustration with work/paying bills/rent. While keeping with the whole awesomeness of mutants with super powers, I'm also trying to convey the more mundane side of growing up and being responsible for yourself/others. I'll try for more action-ey writing later on.**

**Cheers!**


	3. AN EYEFUL

Wanda managed to wake up before her alarm went off, as usual, despite setting it an entire two hours earlier than her usual wake-up time. She needed extra time this morning to go to the grocery store and back before going to work. That was her chief concern. The fight she'd had with Pietro the day before, all the nonsense going around this Nick Fury situation, was the farthest thing from her mind.

Being as it was quite early Wanda knew none of the others would be awake yet, and it wasn't overly chilly in the house, so she didn't bother grabbing her house coat on her way to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee.

Wanda trudged down the stairs, rubbing her eye with the heel of her hand. She let out a none-too-ladylike yawn as she rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs. Wanda's hand automatically found the light-switch next to the kitchen door. Meanwhile she allowed herself to enjoy the delightful sensation of her vertebrae popping back into place as she stretched out her arms and twisted her torso slightly to the side.

The lights made their usual buzzing sound as they came on. Wanda's eyes automatically clenched tight until her pupils were ready to adjust.

"G'morning."

Suddenly Wanda's eyes snapped open, despite being unprepared for the bright light in the kitchen. Her attention fell on a blurry figure sitting at the far side of the small table in the corner of the room. It didn't take long for the blurriness of her vision to pass, and she was able to clearly make out the face of the newcomer named Pyro.

"Jetlag is a real bugger, let me tell you." Pyro said conversationally. "I know it's only… five o'clock here but," he glanced at his wristwatch, "it's eight in the evening in Brisbane." He was giving her an odd look, like he was trying very hard to focus on her face and fighting back a grin, all the while trying to stay casual and nonchalant.

Wanda was too shocked and confused to move.

"I was actually just sitting here, in the dark, thinking about how I'm going to get back to Aus." The fight against the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth finally ended in a loss for Pyro's composure. "I think that might be too hasty. Would you like some coffee?"

It was then that Wanda remembered she had slept in her underwear.

* * *

Nick Fury returned to the boarding house early the following morning to get his answer from the Brotherhood, with Pyro included. He had one of his operatives in his company to assist him should things get out of hand. He turned to her as their car pulled up to the dilapidated Victorian style manse that had likely once been a lovely family home… at one point in history. "Ever dealt with hostile children, Danvers?" he asked the blonde-haired woman at his side.

The woman's lips curled into a smile. "I thought you said these mutants were between the ages of twenty to twenty-five, sir."

"Mere babies, Danvers. I'd rather not have to drag you into this as well, but judging by what we witnessed during yesterday's observation, young Miss Maximoff might prove to be a problem."

Danvers put the car into park and glanced out the window. "So you needed to bring in a Super Soldier. I see. Planning on using me as an indestructible meat shield in case she-"

Whatever Miss Maximoff might have become was lost on Danvers' lips when a loud bang issued from the house, and something was ejected violently from the kitchen window.

"I had hoped Pyro would at least live to see his first briefing. Come along, Danvers," Fury unlocked his door and pushed it open with a shove. "The sooner we get this over with the better."

* * *

John's head was throbbing and the bag of frozen peas that Fred had provided wasn't being of much help. He could recall the events leading up to getting thrown out of the kitchen window, but the time between then and getting extracted from the bushes by Combat Barbie was a complete blank.

Nick Fury had them gathered in the living room. Wanda, sadly, had gotten dressed. She seemed rather perturbed (Lance explained later that she was forced to excuse herself from work indefinitely) and gave the old eye-patched man such an acidic look that it threatened to eat a hole right through his head. The blonde-haired woman who had gotten John out of the bushes was now holding Wanda's arms behind her back. John didn't understand why Wanda couldn't just shake herself loose and blast HER through the window.

Pietro was glancing nervously between Wanda and Fury. John couldn't blame him. The two probably scared Pietro witless in equal measure.

"No doubt you've already be informed of our proposal." Fury began to say as he crossed the room, staring down each of them in turn with his good eye. John resisted the urge to respond with 'AHOY! Yar yar yar!'

"Vaguely…" Lance grumbled.

Nick Fury turned to glare at Pietro. Pietro gulped. "They wouldn't listen to me," he complained, holding up his hands defensively.

Fury smirked. John found that to be more disturbing than the man's stern glare. "I suppose they have their reasons, Mr. Maximoff." Fury said with amusement. "You don't exactly have the best track record, as you might recall."

Todd began to snicker until Fury turned his attention to him instead.

"We're offering you the opportunity to use your abilities for the greater good." Fury's gaze fixed on John for a moment longer than he felt comfortable with. "The six of you have been keeping a fairly low profile for the last few years. I'm sure some of you are likely getting a little restless."

John didn't want to admit it, but he was right. He often found himself setting small fires. Normally he'd stick to abandoned buildings, but lately Pyro was itching for something more thrilling. A museum, a fancy restaurant, a retirement home… the only problem was he ran the risk of killing a lot of people. He didn't need to get that kind of attention.

Fury continued. "I'm not surprised that you all opted to decline Xavier's offer to let him take you on as X-Men-"

"I'd rather put a hole through my head." Lance snapped. "It didn't matter that we all helped taking down Apocalypse! Xavier's cronies still acted like they were too good for us!"

"He's just sore 'cause Kitty took up with that big Russian guy instead of him." Todd said quietly enough so that only John could hear him. John blinked. Magneto AND Colossus went over to Xavier's?

"Be that as it may, Mr. Alvers. SHIELD has opened a base of operations in New York City. Major Danvers and I are here to assist in moving the lot of you into the new facility. Once there, you will be briefed on your first mission as our new Mutant Task Force."

"And if we refuse?" Wanda hissed with venom. John could see now that she was straining against Major Danvers' grip, but it must have been impossible to break.

Fury approached Wanda with an air of authority and confidence. He towered over her. "If you refuse, then we leave you here." His eye never left hers. "You will carry on with playing at being human until Robert Kelly sends his Mutant Registration Enforcement Officers after you. The only reason he hasn't done so already is we've been keeping an eye on you ourselves."

"Are we supposed to be grateful to you?"

"You're supposed to understand the situation you'll be in if you stay, Miss Maximoff. Once we leave, and you're still standing here, the least of your problems will be finding another part-time job."

* * *

In the end, Wanda grudgingly agreed to Fury's offer. Her wrists were still throbbing from being held back by Major "call me Carol" Danvers. Wanda glared at the other woman as she easily lifted Wanda's mattress up with one hand and set it, leaning against the wall, on the other side of her room. She then set to work at dismantling Wanda's bed frame.

Wanda had refused to speak to her for a long time, but after watching Carol pick up her dresser and carry it down the stairs without so much as a look of effort, she got curious. "Are you part of this Mutant Task Force too?"

Carol glanced up from the headboard and smiled at Wanda. "No, unfortunately I'm not qualified."

Wanda regarded her with confusion.

"Mutants aren't the only ones with special powers. I just wasn't born with mine. Can you hand me that screw driver? Thanks. I'm a product of the Super Soldier program. The government decided to revisit it after leaving it buried for over fifty years. I suppose you guys are partially to blame for that."

Wanda watched as Carol easily twisted each screw out of her bed frame and left the sections in a neat pile on the floor. "What are you capable of?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. Super-strength, indestructible body, flight… Not much to write home about."

Wanda found Carol's false modesty to be a bit grating, but she didn't let that show. "And you volunteered to let them do that to you?"

Carol leaned back and brushed her hands against her thighs after dismantling the last of the bed frame. "Not exactly. I was selected for the program, and when they explained to me what the risks were, I figured the pros outweighed the cons."

"Sounds like they were planning on using you against the mutants. And now you're helping us."

"My loyalties are with SHIELD, and we've got bigger priorities than fighting over which race is superior." Carol got to her feet and turned to open Wanda's bedroom window. "It's probably faster if you throw the pieces out to me. I'll come back in for the headboard." She suddenly lifted herself off the floor and floated out the opened window.

* * *

"I must say, this is much more enjoyable than the first trip you took me on, Nicky." John said with mock sincerity to nobody in particular. Nick Fury was in the leading car, while the brotherhood (save for Fred, who was stuck in the moving truck with their belongings) were crammed into a van that followed. Pietro had wanted to ride shotgun, but the front seats were taken by two more SHIELD agents who didn't speak to them the entire time they were moving.

John was bored. He had never been a good traveller, which was likely why Fury had him sedated in the first place. When it seemed that nobody was paying attention he reached into his rucksack and took out a small stack of papers, which he rolled into a tube. He lifted the tube to his left eye, closed his right, and peered through it at his fellow passengers. "I spy, with my little eye, something that is…" he pointed the tube in Wanda's direction, "… irritable."

Todd apparently was the only one listening. "Oh! It's Wanda!" He made a grab for the tube. "My turn!"

Wanda shot a look at John. With a motion of her hand the papers exploded in Todd's face into a million bits of confetti. It was the end of their short-lived game. John slumped back in his seat while Todd tried to spit out the stray bits of paper that he accidentally inhaled.

Pietro turned around in his seat. "Would you quit goofing around," he snapped irritably. Clearly the two hour drive was getting to him as well. John grinned.

"Are we there yet?"

"Pyro, don't start-"

"Are we there yet?"

This was going to be the best two hours of John's life.

* * *

**And there's chapter three. Honestly I didn't know if I was going to carry on with this story. The block was just too much. As always, please let me know what you thought of it in a review.**

**I might be making some good progress.  
**


	4. SOMETHING'S OFF

Fury convoked them in a large elliptical room located deep underground, beneath what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse by the shoreline of New York City. (It was a clever place to hide a super elite military base of operations, John supposed, if not a bit clichéd. Magneto at least had the creativity to put HIS base on the top of a mountain near a busy ski resort.) They were seated around a long table with about a dozen empty chairs left on either side of them. Apparently they intended to use this room for very important SHIELD gatherings - or they were planning on playing a game later that would involved swivelling office furniture.

Fury stood at the head of the table with Major Danvers. They had an enormous file folder open in front of them. Danvers shuffled through the files while Fury flicked a switch that turned on the smart board behind him. Danvers seemed to find what she was looking for and started passing smaller stacks of papers around to the Brotherhood and Pyro.

"Thank you, Major." Fury said once everyone had their own stack of papers. "That will be all. I will see you in Seattle in two weeks."

Danvers saluted him and left the room.

"What you have in front of you is intelligence gathered from one of our undercover operatives." Fury brought up the first page on his smart board and zoomed in to a section outlining a bunch of numerical figures. "There's been a sharp increase in the government's budget towards research on genetics recently."

Toad was flipping through his booklet with a look of boredom. "Yeah, so what?" he said flippantly.

Before Fury could say something that would likely scare the mess out of Toad, the Scarlet Witch spoke up. "How is that news to you? Major Danvers has been genetically altered already. She told me they've been doing tests of this nature since the second World War."

Fury, surprisingly, seemed pleased with her question and left Toad be in his ignorance. "The Super Soldier program was strictly military, and was in the works long before mutants were exposed." Fury turned and circled a section of numbers on his smart board. "The money in this case is being allocated almost exclusively to a science research facility in Great Britain. SHIELD has no previous information the facility itself. As far as we know, it never existed until a few months ago."

Pyro looked around the table at his fellow mutants, wondering if any of them were understanding what Fury was showing them. HE did. He figured the Scarlet Witch probably had an idea as well, as she was frowning more deeply than usual. Toad looked bored. Avalanche was glaring at his paper. Quicksilver was leaning back in his chair with his feet up on the table and Blob just seemed confused. "It's like this," Pyro said, addressing Blob in particular, "your American President is giving a bunch of money to some mysterious British mad scientists for God knows whatever reason. They aren't naturally in the habit of doing that, so it's fishy."

Blob blinked for a moment, then it was like a light turned on in his noggin. He nodded in understanding. "Oh." he said.

God help him, Pyro thought. Blob was a nice enough bloke, but he was slower than an elephant frozen in carbonite.

"Thank you, Pyro, for putting that so frankly." Fury said with an ironic smirk. "Anyway, there's a press conference scheduled next week at the Hampton. The facility, GENESSEX, will be having a presentation of their current research. The founder and lead scientist," Fury tapped the corner of the smart board and brought up a photo of a well groomed gentleman who appeared to be in his early forties, "Doctor Nathaniel Essex will be present along with his assistant. Turn to the last three pages of your booklets."

Pyro did so. The pages contained more photographs of Essex. Some of them also featured a middle-aged woman with tightly wound hair and square-rimmed glasses. She wasn't exactly the attractive little twenty-something sort of assistant that John would have pegged Essex as having. The final page and a brief biography on Essex. Clearly SHIELD didn't have much information on him.

"I'm sending three of you to gather information on Essex, as well as his assistant. Pyro, Scarlet Witch, you will be attending the press conference." Fury handed them each an ID tag and a New York drivers license. "You're already registered. Take the ID tag to the check-in counter." He reached down behind the table and brought up a paper bag, which he threw at Quicksilver.

Quicksilver nearly fell out of his chair trying to catch it, but managed to regain his balance in time. He reached into the bag and pulled out what appeared to be a set of coveralls. His nose wrinkled with distaste. "What the hell is this?"

Fury smiled. "You'll each be given a more detailed set of instructions before the conference. In the mean time, feel free to get yourselves settled in. The mess hall is located on sublevel four. Dinner is at eighteen-hundred hours. Dismissed."

* * *

John found himself following Lance to the weight room after the lot of them got their rooms figured out. There had been five rooms available, and of course there were six of them. Nobody argued that Wanda, Fred and Todd should get their own rooms (Wanda because she was the only girl, Fred because of his size and Todd because of the smell). Pietro insisted on getting his own, which John and Lance didn't argue with. The man was insufferable. That left John bunking with Lance again. He didn't mind so much. He found that he could actually get along alright with the other mutant.

They found the weight room on the third sublevel. It was huge! John imagined that they could train a small army in there. Perhaps that was the point... Lance and John changed into a set of SHIELD standard work-out sweats and set about choosing the weights they were going to lift.

Lance settled himself on a bench and started curling a forty-pound dumbbell with his right arm. John watched him for a moment and tried to guess the size of Lance's bicep by comparing it to his own. He noted, somewhat bitterly, that Lance's arms were a fair deal larger. It was his own fault though. He'd spent the last three years doing less training and more trying to find a steady job.

"You excited about your first mission?" Lance asked with a grunt as he switched the weight to his other hand and carried on with his curls.

John shrugged. He sat down at a leg-press machine and set the bar at a slightly higher weight than he probably should have. "Guess so… It's not the glamorous sort of thing I was hoping for. Y'know, white tux, high-stakes poker game, beautiful women in cocktail dresses…"

Lance actually chuckled a little. "You might try asking Wanda to slip into a cocktail dress."

"And here I thought we might be mates, you start feeding me bad advice."

* * *

Wanda's room was spartan to say the least. The floor was concrete. The walls were concrete. The door was a heavy metal alloy. Looking around she felt a chill run through her entire body. She wished she had a window at least, but what was the purpose of a window when you were deep underground?

She found that her bed had been set up in one corner, and her dresser and bookshelves, both empty, leaned up against the opposite wall next to a full-length mirror. A stack of boxes were waiting for her in the middle of the room. Wanda slumped down onto her bare mattress and started sorting through the boxes, looking for her clothing. She found them in three mid-sized boxes somewhere in the middle of the stack. The bottom boxes were labelled 'BOOKS'. She knew they'd be heavy, so she let them be for now.

The mirror turned out to be sliding door which led to a closet, much to Wanda's relief. There were already a few articles hanging up on the crossbar. She pushed them aside so she could get a good look at them. There were three sets of sweats, something that looked like a wet suit, and a long red jacket. Wanda, curious, took out the jacket and held it up. It was very similar to the one she wore when she was a teenager. The sleeves were a bit different.

She hung the jacket up again and set about with getting the majority of her own clothing into the closet. The sweaters, dress pants and jackets all went in. The rest of it, t-shirts, underwear, denim etc… made it to the dresser. It didn't take long. Wanda wasn't much of a clothes horse.

The next thing she did was make her bed up. Once the comforter was on she felt a little less apprehensive about her surroundings. Still, this wasn't home. Wanda lay down on her bed and let her head melt down into her favourite feather pillow. Her hand went unconsciously to the pocket where she had shoved the ID tag she'd received from Fury. She pulled out the tag and held it up to her face so she could get a better look at it.

How they got a picture of her, Wanda didn't care to know. But there she was. A small one and a half inch photograph of her stared back from the top corner of the tag. The tag claimed that her name was Wanda Tompkins, and she was an employee of the Daily Bugle. She turned the tag over and found a barcode etched across the back. The tag itself was suspended on a black ribbon. She slipped the ribbon around her neck and let the tag settle on her chest as she stared up at her concrete ceiling.

This was going to be her life now, was it?

Wanda felt something nagging at the back of her mind as her hand brushed against the cold grey wall to her side. There was something disturbingly familiar about the sensation. Her brow furrowed as she tried to work out where that feeling was coming from. All she got was the sense that she was trying to run through waist-deep oatmeal.

She rolled over onto her side, facing away from the wall. Her reflection in the mirror glared back at her. She looked defeated and tired. Spending hours in a car with Pietro could do that to her, she mused.

On the way to the facility, they drove past a demonstration going on by Central Park. People were hoisting signs depicting green-skinned people on stakes, or with poorly spaced messages of hatred against mutants. Several more people were wearing cut-out paper masks resembling who she remembered as Principal Kelly from Bayville High. The sight had filled her with anger, which was only made worse when Pietro turned to her and not so gently told her "…this is why we can't have normal."

Wanda turned away from her reflection when she saw a tear trickle down her cheek. Stupid Pietro, being right…

* * *

John eventually stopped watching Lance with a sense of jealousy and instead tried his hand at trying to keep up with him. When the larger man started adding another ten pounds to his load, John was beginning to wonder if he hadn't made a big mistake.

The two of them had been chatting here and there as they worked out. John learned that Lance had grown up in various foster homes, as John had for a few years after his grandmother had become too feeble to look after him herself. Lance didn't have much nice to say about any of them. John told him about his Gran, and her cooking. "Canned soup most nights, until the cat went missing."

Their discussion suddenly came to an awkward halt when Lance asked him about one of his former team mates, and John remembered what Todd had said about Lance getting rejected by his girlfriend.

"Which big guy? The hairy one, the French one or the shiny one?" John asked tentatively.

Lance was glaring at the floor as he did yet another leg lift. "The really big guy who turned into metal. What's he like?"

"Oh, Colossus? Not much to tell really. Quiet fellow. Spent a lot of his free time by himself. Why do you ask?" John knew very well why Lance was asking. He wanted to know what kind of guy his girl blew him off for.

"Is he like a giant douche or what?" Lance said with a growl.

John grimaced at his tone. He liked Lance well enough, but what a drama queen! "Not really per se. He had a tendency to leave his dirty socks laying about the common room sometimes."

"Never mind…"

* * *

That night, after a rather disappointing dinner of cafeteria mashed potatoes, corned beef and orange soda John holed himself up in the room he shared with Lance and spent a few hours getting his writing desk established. There wasn't much space left after both of their beds had been set up and Lance commandeered a sizable space for his collection of guitars. John had almost given up completely on the idea of having a desk. Thankfully, due to some creative furniture arrangement, a makeshift blowtorch, and the help of Fred, he and Lance were now the proud co-owners of a set of bunk beds. John used the space his bed USED to occupy to give a home to his desk.

Of course, since he was such a charitable room mate, he was going to let Lance have first choice of top or bottom bunk… once he found out about it of course.

Before he left, Fred mentioned to John that the boys were planning on heading out for drinks and invited John to come along. John was honestly touched by Fred's consideration, but politely declined. In all of the excitement of the last few days, John had been neglecting his writing and wanted to get back at it.

So there he sat, turning back and forth in his little office chair, staring at the plain concrete ceiling of his room and waiting for a bolt of inspiration to strike him. He'd been sitting there for the best part of an hour. There was nothing for it. He was completely stuck on this latest chapter. Sure, he had an outline of where he wanted the story to ultimately go, but there had to be more interesting things to happen between point A and point Z. The main character, a buxom raven-haired beauty with psychic powers, couldn't just hop into bed with the haunted poet right away. He needed SOMETHING-

There was a crash from down the hall that was quickly followed by another. John looked away from his computer and strained his ears. A third crash confirmed for him that it was coming from two doors down on his side of the hallway - Wanda's room. His natural assumption was that she was having a temper tantrum. From his understanding she had those often and it was best to just let it pass without getting too close.

The light in John's room began to flicker on and off. Well, that a was probably Wanda as well, though why she felt the need to interfere with the comfort of others was beyond John's understanding. He finally got up from his desk and poked his head out the door to see if she was messing with the electrical on the entire floor. Sure enough, the bulbs hanging overhead in the hallway were bursting and sending shards of glass and sparks flying everywhere. John ducked back into his room just long enough to grab his leather jacket and his boots before he set out to give Wanda a piece of his mind. John slipped on his boots to protect his feet from the glass and draped the jacket over his head.

He found Wanda's door firmly closed. The crashing continued from inside it. Raising his fist, he rapped his knuckles against the door and demanded that Wanda knock it off before he did something about it. The crashing only continued, but this time John heard a loud sob that almost sounded like a cry for help.

What came over him was a sudden sense of chivalry. There was a damsel in distress trapped behind this door and only he was around to rescue her. John was often described as insane by most people who knew him. In reality John had an overactive imagination and a short attention span. He momentarily forgot that he meant to tell Wanda off, and decided his purpose was to break the door down and slay the beast that held her captive.

The door nearly fell of its hinges when he twisted the latch and pushed it open. The latch even came off in his hand. He stepped into the room and was met by a flying table lamp that seemed to be aimed at his head. He managed to duck in time and the lamp smashed into the wall behind him. Spinning around, he saw Wanda wide-eyed and breathing heavily as she stood on her bed and pressed her back against the wall farthest from him.

He could see that she had been sweating. Her long black hair was sticking to her face and neck. Her eyes darted in his direction, but she seemed to be staring through him.

John gulped. She looked like a victim of demonic possession. "Uh, Wanda?" He approached the bed with hesitation. He was being crazy. Every fibre of his being was telling him to run. Run fast. Run far. Instead he took another careful step toward the bed while trying to avoid stepping on any of the broken wood chips or glass.

Wanda shrieked. Her hand shot out and her blanket went flying at John like a net. He ducked and barely managed to avoid getting tangled up inside of it. Instead the blanket hit the wall and crumpled uselessly onto the floor.

"Wanda! Take it easy, it's just me!" he shouted this time.

"NO!" she screamed back. "You're not putting me in again! Leave me alone!" With another flick of her finger, her pillow went sailing at John. This time it hit the target. John felt the wind get knocked out of him as the pillow smashed into his abdomen.

John coughed and wheezed as he tried to recover. "I'm not going to bloody touch you, you raving bint!" He would have continued shouting at her, but he saw that her body was starting to take on the tell-tale glow of a charging hex-bolt. He threw his arms over his head protectively. "Sorry! You're not a bint! Try not to hit the face-"

Wanda didn't blast him though. She choked on a sob, squeezed her eyes shut and slid down the wall as she collapsed into her mattress. "Father…"

Damn, John thought. She was having some sort of psychotic flash-back from before Mastermind's memory alteration. John was afraid that she might have residual memories left over. And if she did, she might remember that he was the one who led her into the trap in the first place. This meant he was in BIG trouble.

"Right…" he said, lowering his arms. He took a careful step back, not taking his eyes off Wanda's hunched over form, just in case she snapped again. "I'm going back to my room now, um… you should probably avoid eating whatever it was you ate before you went to bed. Clearly it's giving you nightmares."

She said something, but it was so quiet and her voice was further muffled by her arms, John couldn't hear her clearly.

"Sorry?"

Wanda lifted her head. This time, as she stared in his direction, he could tell she was looking straight at him with her red, bloodshot eyes. "Please don't leave me here…"

"Umm…"

John was at a loss. He glanced around the room. Wanda had completely demolished her furniture, save for the bed. The closet mirror lay in smashed shards across the floor. The lights were still flickering, but at least things weren't exploding or flying anymore. He also couldn't forget that this was the same woman who had thrown him out of a window early that same morning.

"Please…"

"Uh, alright." John carefully stepped over a stack of torn books (he felt something heavy in the pit of his stomach at the mere sight of them) and awkwardly crawled onto the mattress. When he saw that Wanda wasn't going to move to toss him across the room, or skin him alive, he slowly closed the distance between them until he sat next to her. Unsure of what to do next, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and patted her arm. "There there. Nobody's going to hurt you, love."

Wanda shuddered as she tried to fight back another sob. "I'm sorry, I'll be good," she whispered before curling up in John's reluctant embrace and burying her face into his chest. John automatically tightened his grip on her shoulders. She shook as she continued to mumble softly against the gradually dampening fabric of his shirt.

The whole situation went from strange to unsettling to surreal in a short period of time. A moment ago, John was trying to find the quickest escape route out of there, now he was stretched out on Wanda's bed with the witch herself sobbing into his chest like a frightened child.

John tilted his head to the side to rest his chin against the top of Wanda's head. The free hand that wasn't holding her shoulders reached up and lightly stroked hair. "There there…" he muttered again. "It's alright, love. You're safe."

* * *

**Things got a little fluffy at the end, didn't they? I do hope you enjoyed it. I had struggled with writing that last part. I wasn't sure if it was too soon for something like that to happen between them or not. Oh well :3**


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